Painted on My Heart
by Moria Polonius
Summary: Love that crosses decades. Cruel families, Death Eaters, vampires and Dementors. Severus Snape, Hermione Granger and the Time Tuner. What can I say, folks? I couldn't resist.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Characters are not mine, they belong to JK Rowling. No trademark infringement intended. I'm not making any money from this writing. The title I borrowed from The Cult, their song 'Painted on My Heart' inspired me and suits this story perfectly. Please forgive me spelling, grammar and any misuse of words and expressions. English is not my first language.

**

Painted on My Heart

** **

Prologue

**

**

***

**

"...This is why the Elementary Potion would be the best basis for any further proceeding in..."

Hermione bent over her cauldron, carefully measuring the amount of Elementary Potion. Draco Malfoy, sitting on the other end of the class, raised an eyebrow in amusement at her eagerness, but restrained himself from a disdainful snort. He didn't dare to risk a detention. Since last year Snape's patience with him seemed to have been over and, while he still didn't deduct any points from Slytherin, detentions weren't all that rare.

Her sixth year in Hogwarts started only two weeks ago. Potions was not an obligatory course anymore. It was one of the most difficult subjects by now - although most of students considered it difficult every year - and, combined with an unpleasant teacher, not the most popular one. The class was small; only nine students have taken the course. Three Slytherins, three Ravenclaws, two Hufflepuffs and one Gryffindor. Hermione.

The atmosphere in the class was drastically different from the one last year. It was no longer enduring Professor Snape's malevolence and wondering what kind of potion he had prepared in order to torture them. Now there was a calm concentration and silence, in which Snape's hypnotic voice guided the students through the process of brewing. His trademark sneer didn't lose any of it's edge and the occasional tongue-lashing was as merciless as ever, but those displays of bad temper were the epitomes of kindness itself in comparison to the ill-treatment from the previous years. Snape was far more concentrated on teaching than on mocking. Potions became fascinating, enjoyable even.

When Snape fell silent, she automatically looked up.

"... in this or any other form. Who can explain the difference?"

Hermione's hand went up in an instant; a habit Snape mocked often enough, but one she was unable to eradicate from her instincts.

"Mr. Nott?"

Hermione lowered her hand. He did it again. Five years and it was still the same. He didn't notice her, didn't acknowledge her. All other teachers were raving about her skill and brilliance. He did not. The only thing she would get from him was: 'If you do not stop showing off yourself, Miss Granger, and enable other students do their assignments, I might consider taking another ten points from Gryffindor.' Why did she care anyway? She had no idea.

"And what would be the effect of such an action in the provided conditions?"

Hermione raised her hand again. Pathetic thing she was, to fight so hard for something that everybody said wasn't important.

Snape's black eyes watched the students for a moment. Hermione was the only one with her hand up. He turned his back to the class and focused on the set of vials on his desk.

"Miss Granger?"

She cleared her throat nervously. Potions was the only class that made her nervous before answering the question. Or rather Snape was.

"There would be no effect. Unicorn's tears would not react in the temperature higher than twenty-five Centigrade. They need to be mixed with the leaves and water before heating up and making the rest of the potion." Why was it so difficult to speak now? She thought she knew the reason. Before, she was one of the very few to be interested in the lesson and prepared for it. Now, everyone in this small lass was interested and prepared. Being the only one able to answer meant much, much more. It meant he could acknowledge her skill and give her praise.

"Correct." Snape didn't even turn around to look at her. "Now, if you paid attention to what I had said earlier and listened to Miss Granger's explanation, you will be able to prepare the potion on your own. Set to work."

Without a glance on her he sat behind his desk and became engrossed in his notes. Every so often he would rise his eyes to see if everything was going smoothly and nobody was dead, but, Neville Longbottom gone, the odds of something dreadful happening were minimised considerably.

**

***

**

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose. He could feel the headache coming, but refused to stop working. Only burying himself in work could keep dark thoughts at bay. Every time he looked at Hermione Granger, the memories resurfaced and were harder to suppress. Every single glance at her and he was becoming more and more aware of the black emptiness of his heart.

_I thought you'd be out of my mind, and I finally find a way to learn to live without you... But it's just not so, and after all this time, I still can't let go... I still got your face, painted on my heart, scrawled upon my soul, etched upon my memory..._

Sometimes he could swear she was her. The same eyes, the same soft, wavy hair, the same light step, the same tone of voice. Sometimes he stood right behind her, pretending to watch her potion, but in truth just endeavouring to recall this peculiar orange-and-roses scent of her. How he longed to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin... She would smile delightedly and whisper: _'Severus...'_

Snape threw his quill on his notes abruptly. Stop it, he ordered himself. Stop it now or you shall go insane!

He opened another dusty volume and focused on searching for the information on the differences between the properties of Brazilian mandragora and the Persian one. The Apothecary in Hogsmeade was out of the Brazilian one, and he didn't want to wait until the one ordered from London comes, so he planned on replacing it with the Persian. Unless the Persian lacked a certain property, necessary to make the sort of Sleeping Draught he needed. Or rather Draco Malfoy needed.

The knock on the door of his study broke the silence.

"Come in." Think of the devil... Without surprise, he saw Draco Malfoy, the only person likely to visit him at three at night.

"Excuse me, Professor, but we have a... situation."

Snape wasn't sure whether to be glad to have something to occupy him or to worry if the trouble his students got themselves into were unreversible.

"What happened?"

"Goyle... attacked Astrid Hansen. She put a Minimising Charm, I think, on him and he shrunk to about half of his size. Um, nobody knows how to reverse the charm, Astrid included."

Snape fought to keep a straight face at the thought of the big bully Goyle being shrunk. Then he frowned.

"What do you mean: attacked? Miss Hansen is a fourth-year, no match for him in any capacity."

Draco shifted uncomfortably. "Well, she was studying in the common room deep at night, and Goyle tried... um..."

"You mean it was a sexual assault?"

"Yes, Professor, that would be it," Draco said, not being able to look away from Snape's coldly furious eyes.

"I thought you were supposed to keep tabs on your 'friends', Mr Malfoy. Is it such a big demand to control those two nitwits or have I overestimated your capabilities?"

The young man swallowed at his teacher's venomous tone. "I tried to prevent such actions, sir. Astrid Hansen is a half-Muggle, and her wizarding parent is Muggle-born too... I made sure Crabbe and Goyle would think it below them to be interested in a mudblood in any way..." He paused and then added heavily, "I guess my job with Goyle was not thorough enough."

"Well, make sure it won't happen again. How is Miss Hansen feeling?"

"Not good, the girls are trying to take care of her. I'm not exactly the right person to comfort her... we might use some authority down there, Professor, to clear the air. And to un-hex Goyle."

Severus closed his book and shoved the notes into the drawer. "Let's not waste any more time then." He left his notes and memories behind and followed Draco Malfoy to the Serpent's Den.

It was hard to believe how much young Malfoy changed over the last year, Snape mused. Amazing how a Dark Revel and witnessing a favourite little cousin being murdered could affect a person. Right now Draco was Severus' most trusted helper in ensuring the welfare of the Slytherins. Cunning and discreet, he manipulated the more 'unpleasant' ones away from the ones who had no desire to become Death Eaters. He was very effective in making Voldemort appear disgusting to those yet undecided. With Severus' little help all of this was achieved without breaching the appearances of loyalty to Lucius.

Snape had always felt some affection for Narcissa's son, but now Draco earned his respect.

The two of them were making their way through the long dungeon corridors, towards the Serpent's Den. Students from all other Houses always wondered why Slytherins never tried to move their dormitories to a more pleasant environment than rather gloomy and cold dungeons. Serpens Tower was unoccupied and would make better place for living.

What only Slytherins knew, was the fact that dungeons were the biggest part of Hogwarts Castle. Their dormitories were at least three times as big as those of other Houses. For members of rich, aristocratic families that majority of Slytherin House was composed of, space had a special value. Not to mention that it gave many more empty rooms and corners in which older students could snog.

"How are your dreams, Mr Malfoy?" Snape asked.

Draco almost stopped dead in his tracks. He composed himself quickly, not showing his surprise. His control is getting better, Snape thought approvingly. He would very much need this control when his capabilities develop to the fullest.

"Nothing out of ordinary, Professor. The Potion you have made for me seems to have a required effect."

He's lying, Snape thought. "If anything changes, you must tell me, Mr Malfoy. We cannot risk your father noticing."

Draco stopped. "It's nothing, really Professor. It's not the Sight. I don't have visions; the dreams are not the prophetic ones... it's just... er..." he blushed bright red.

It clicked in Snape's mind and, suppressing a smile, he ceased asking uncomfortable questions. The boy is sixteen, what kind of dreams sixteen-years-old boys have? The answer is pretty obvious, unless the boy is Draco Malfoy, a newly awakened Seer.

Snape and Draco found the common room to be exceptionally crowded. Gregory Goyle, sitting on one of the green couches, was the centre of all attention. Everybody around was sniggering; even Draco's face cracked into a smirk. Gregory Goyle, about three feet tall, not being able to reach the floor from the couch, was a view to kill.

Snape frowned down at the boy with his best cold-like-an-iceberg expression. For a moment he toyed with an idea to get everybody out, but public humiliation would be a much better example. "Mr Malfoy informed me of the tonight's events, Mr Goyle. I am very disappointed with you. Such behaviour does not suit a proud Slytherin you claimed to be. To attack a person like Miss Hansen... really, Mr Goyle, your father is not going to be pleased." Goyle looked as if Snape shrunk him even more with his words, but the last blow was not delivered yet. "It is my belief that the Slytherin Quidditch team would benefit if your position as a Beater would be taken by somebody who can fully appreciate the honour that is bestowed upon him."

The common room erupted with the excited babbling.

"Enough of this circus!" Snape barked. "Everybody go to bed, now!" The area cleared within a minute. Nobody argued with Professor Snape when he had this look on his face. "Miss Ashdown," he stopped the fourth-year on her way out, "Please inform Miss Hansen that I would want to talk to her tomorrow before the lessons."

Amelia Ashdown nodded nervously from the doorway and left. Snape turned to midgetted student, his lips twisting with contempt. "And you can't even duck a simple hex like this one, cast by an inexperienced fourth-year, Mr Goyle. We should work on your reflexes. A few sessions with Peeves, perhaps?"

Un-hexing Goyle was a matter of five minutes. He stood up, stretching his limbs that were clearly aching. "Go to Madam Pomfrey tomorrow morning." Snape instructed him. "Just in case. Now, out of my sight."

"I trust you will prevent anything like this happening in the future, Mr Malfoy." Snape said when he was left alone with the sixth year Prefect.

"I will do my best, sir. Although..."

"Yes?"

"You have really humiliated him, Professor. He might want a revenge on Astrid."

Snape's lips tightened into a thin line of impatience. "Of course he would want a revenge. He's a Slytherin. It's up to you making him want to remain in good graces of mighty Draco Malfoy more that pursuing his revenge on a mudblood."

Draco nodded in understanding. "Of course, sir."

"Good night then, Mr Malfoy."

With this, Snape left the Slytherin common room. Sometimes he wished the Sorting Hat didn't look so very deeply into his mind and put him where it first intended: into Ravenclaw. He wouldn't have all this trouble with Ravenclaw students. They were the least troublesome lot in Hogwarts. What could go wrong if the student's biggest insubordination was staying in the library unnoticed and reading all night long? When he was faced with the incidents like this with Goyle, he really envied Flitwick monotony.

Turning around the corner, he bumped into something. No, not something, somebody. The smell of oranges-and-roses filled his nostrils. There goes his last chance of good night sleep.

"What are you doing in the dungeons at this time of night, Miss Granger?" He snarled angrily, furious with his body's reaction at the contact. The image of the two of them sprawled on the floor flashed through his mind and he jerked away. It was getting out of control! He was not going to spend yet another night feeling guilty because of his fantasies about a student!

"I... I..."

"Very coherent, just like a Gryffindor." He noticed she was getting more nervous every second. Well, it was nothing compared to what she was doing to him. "I'm waiting, Miss Granger."

"I was looking for a secluded place to do an experiment for Professor McGonagall," she whispered in a terrified voice, biting her lip. _She_ also used to bite her lip when she was nervous. Snape's heart clenched; sudden lack of air made him turn his back on the girl. He had to get away from her; he would rather face the Dark Lord right now than Hermione Granger.

"I will talk it over with Professor McGonagall." He rushed down the corridor. "And ten points from Gryffindor."

After ten minutes he was sitting in his chambers, with a vial of red liquid in his hand. The promise he had made to _her_ meant nothing when she wasn't there. He had to have this dream again. He had to see her again. Hear her again. Feel her again. Even if he was to break the promise he had given to her. He had broken it countless times already so once more wouldn't matter.

_I've got your kiss still burning on my lips, the touch of your fingertips, this love so deep inside of me..._

He searched for her so long. He didn't find her. The search brought his downfall and changed him into a monster. All he had left were dreams.

He drank the content of the vial and drifted into the dream.

**

***

**

Hermione stared after the Potions Master; his billowing robes vanishing around another corner. She let out a relieved sigh. Snape scared the hell out of her, appearing out of nowhere, soundlessly. It was distracting enough in the class, to find him standing behind her and to try not to be too transparent with taking pleasure in inhaling his spicy scent. Sandalwood mostly, Hermione recalled and shuddered. Such thoughts about a teacher! Not just any teacher, Snape!

She had no idea when she had developed such fascination with him. The way he ignored her made this fascination ten times worse. She would look up to him hoping to see admiration in his black eyes, but, if she happened to catch his gaze, he would immediately look away. She would observe his elegant hands tracing the edge of the vial, his lithe form moving around the classroom with feline grace. She would try to judge from his silky voice what mood he was in, what he might be thinking. All for nothing. He didn't pay any attention to her.

Damn the man to make her so unsure of herself! But sometimes, when he was standing right behind her, she felt very self conscious. What if...? Hermione shook her head, trying to clear her head. She was _not_ going to think about it again! It was Snape!

With trembling hands she pulled out the object she was supposed to experiment upon. A Time Tuner. The place was as good as any. She had to go twenty hours back, which would make it eight in the morning, and take the Advanced Magical Runes class. It was at the same time as Advanced Potions and she had to give up one of the subjects. Magical Runes was a very interesting course up to now, and Hermione wasn't happy having to quit. Professor McGonagall was understanding. Given Hermione's experience with Time Tuners, Deputy Headmistress was sure she could be trusted with a newest version of one. Just to go back for one lesson to see if she really wanted to carry on with Magical Runes.

A quick glance at the disk of the Time Tuner showed everything was set and ready. With a push of a finger on the starter she was hit with a wave of dizziness, that was customary at travelling in time.

The dizziness was much stronger and much longer than she expected. Trying to swallow the nauseous bile that rose in her throat, she made an effort to focus on the mechanism in her hand.

"A Gryffindor!! A Gryffindor in the dungeons!!" she heard a familiar yell. "You will be expelled, you will be expelled!!" Something not entirely material crushed on her. Time Tuner slid from her hand to the floor and broke in half with a loud crack that echoed through the stone walls. Several little springs rolled out. Hermione stared at them in horror.

"Peeves!" Hermione hissed, enraged. Great. Now she would have to get a new Time Tuner. Professor McGonagall trusted her with the newest one and what did she do? She broke it on her first 'trip'. Her chances of being able to attend Advanced Magical Runes class were getting slim.

**

***

**


	2. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin: Part O...

**

Painted on my Heart

** **

The Gryffindor and the Slytherin: Part One

**

**

***

**

The letter landed on Severus' lap very softly. He looked up to see Clitios, one of the family ravens. At least his family had enough sense not to use owls as messengers. Owls were so messy. Looking around at his fellow students he could see some of them picking the letters from the bowls and glasses. Monica Rowling had to dig her letter out of the middle of an apple-pie.

Severus loosened the black ribbon his mother used to tie her letters with and two pieces of parchment rolled out. One was from his mother. Another list of potions she expected him to master and another list of books she required him to memorise. Nothing unusual. She had thought Professor Monday to be a barely qualified teacher and Severus had to agree with her opinion. He finished his Potions education when he reached his fourth year in Hogwarts and there was nothing more Professor Monday could teach him. These days Severus was acting as Monday's assistant and, sometimes, as a substitute. Cornelia Canetti-Snape, however, wasn't going to let her son's education stop at this point. _You want something done, do it yourself,_ was her motto. 

It was the second letter that surprised him. He recognised the ornate handwriting in an instant, although he rarely had a chance to see it. Severia. She never wrote, unless something very important was up. In fact it was only the second time she had ever written him. The message was short, more of a note than a letter.

_Severus,_

I need you to practise intensely. During your Christmas holidays I would need you to gain certain information from one of my kind. Not sympathetic to our cause and very suspicious, but a relatively young one. It will be your unofficial initiation; do not disappoint me. Your parents and I hope you will prove yourself worthy of all the trouble we all went through to prepare you. 

Severia.

Of course Severia, he thought bitterly. What else do I live for than to do what you have prepared me for? He looked briefly at the teacher's table where Professor Andermin, the Head of Slytherin, was calmly eating his vegetables. The thought of rebelling against Severia and his parents crossed his mind, but it was gone in an instant. After all it was supposed to be an 'unofficial' initiation. Just gathering information. Not receiving the Dark Mark yet. He met Professor's eyes. The Professor nodded to him, and Severus discreetly raised his glass in a silent toast. His last Dreaming was very successful, although he wasn't sure if the Professor would be so glad knowing that he had used the Scarlet Elixir afterwards.

He noticed that Professor McGonagall was absent. Strange, she was always there, next to Professor Andermin. Something must have happened to make her miss the first glimpse of the day on her precious Gryffindors.

As if hearing his thoughts, Alicia Wilkes, sitting across the table, commented, "McGonagall is gone. Wonder if there is a chance that Gryffindors would lose some housepoints."

At this Severus shot a hateful look at the Gryffindor table. Just yesterday Sirius Black caused him to lose twenty points from Slytherin for hexing Pettigrew's owl at breakfast. He was set up; Black knew that Severus' instinctive response at being startled was hexing. The students knew better than to try sneaking around Severus Snape. The owl ended up as the legless, wingless, and headless body right under Professor McGonagall's nose. It took some effort to find the rest of owl's body-parts and put them back together.

Black was grinning like an idiot, reading the letter he received, and saying something to Potter. Probably another admirer was inviting him to Hogsmeade for a weekend. Dark circles under his eyes, however, were showing that Severus had done a thorough job in his Dreaming. The sight of Potter, cheerfully bantering with Evans, took away the rest of the appetite Snape still had after reading Severia's message. Potter had no right to be cheerful, while Victoria was dead and cold!

Robert Lestrange nudged him, trying to get his attention.

"What?" Severus snapped.

"Easy, Snape, no need to be jumpy. I heard that we're going to have a new student. A transfer. I heard Professor Flitwick say that he hopes she would be sorted - "

"Fascinating," Severus cut Lestrange's speech short. "Anything else that's going to change my life forever?"

"You're no fun, Snape."

"And I suppose you are?" Severus gave him an ironic look and then he transferred his gaze at Monica, raising an eyebrow. Robert and Monica were inseparable and, generally, they sticked to each other, not allowing anybody else to share their inner jokes and pleasures. Severus wondered why Lucius Malfoy had chosen Robert Lestrange as his spy-boy, since the only thing Robert seemed to have eyes for was Monica.

"Aren't you curious at all?"

"I am curious about many things, Lestrange, but whatabouts of yet another student is not one of them. I know some four hundred students and I dare say it's four hundred too many."

"Should I be offended...?" Robert asked, not sure how to take Snape's words.

"By all means, Lestrange. If this would stop you from nagging me."

"Oh, leave him alone, Robert!" Monica cut in. "Better tell me what have you planned for today, are we going to Hogsmeade?"

Robert shrugged and turned to more pleasant subjects. Severus decided he had enough socialising, but then his eyes fell on the letters he had in his hand.

He should practice. Since the beginning of the year he didn't do it, all his partners having graduated. Somebody new would have to be found. The thought made Severus wince with dislike. There just wasn't anybody suitable. The Slytherin girls in his year were out of the question -- he had to spend with them too much time; his secret would be out and he had no desire to become the subject of _that_ kind of gossip. Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs would be too troublesome with all this attachment issue; discretion was not their biggest advantage either. So either younger Slytherins or Ravenclaws. He looked towards the blue-and-bronze decorated table, sizing the older girls up. Unfortunately, like on every Saturday morning (eleven hour on Saturday was still considered morning) there wasn't many of them at the table.

It was that moment when his train of thought was broken by two figures passing along the Ravenclaw table up to the head of the Gryffindor table. It was McGonagall, escorting the new student. Severus didn't catch the girl's face, all he could see was long, dark brown braid, as she was being introduced to Lily Evans, the Head Girl. Nothing very interesting. Snape returned to his contemplation of Ravenclaw girls.

**

***

**

"Lily, this is Hermia Rogers; she was transferred to Hogwarts from Maori Institute and sorted into Gryffindor, sixth year. I hope you will make her feel welcome."

Hermione was still slightly shocked by everything that had happened in the last three hours. She had found herself twenty years in the past. First five seconds after she had been told the date by Dumbledore in his office she had spent cursing herself for that cursory glance she had given the Time Tuner before she had pushed the starter. Next time she would have to not only check if everything was set, but if everything was set _correctly._

Next ten minutes she had spent staring numbly at the wall, after being stunned with the information that the Time Tuners didn't exist in this time at all. She should have known, though. She had always been given experimental items.

Then she saw possibilities of the situation and tried to speak to Dumbledore about Voldemort. Only to have her efforts dismissed with a grave shake of Headmaster's head. He forbade her to speak about the past... that is, the future... He refused to listen. _'Destiny works it's own ways, Hermione. There is no way you could change the destiny, so leave everything as it is. No matter what you say, no matter what you do, the outcome will be the same. It might be achieved in a slightly different manner, but it will be the same nonetheless. We are but mortals, it is not up to us to challenge the Fate.'_

So here she was, standing with a strained smile in front of Lily Evans, Harry's mum. She had a new name (kind of) and a hastily cooked-up story about her transfer to Hogwarts and she was facing the prospect of spending an indefinite amount of time in the past. Until they figure how to send her back. Or rather forward. Or whatever.

While Professor McGonagall, looking no less stern in her younger years, was making introductions, Hermione was making an effort not to stare at Lily and not to compare her brilliantly emerald eyes to Harry's. They were exactly the same! When McGonagall left, Hermione felt so depressingly desolate that some of her feelings must have come to her face, for Lily hugged her.

"Don't worry, Hermia," she said. "It will be all right. We will have you installed in no time, you'll see. There is seven sixth-year girls in Gryffindor, you will find new friends! And you can always come to me if something is wrong..."

Hermione collected herself and smiled at Lily, trying not to notice the stares of other people around. It was so embarrassing!

"I'm sorry, I guess it's because of stress," she apologised. "This... transfer... was rather unexpected. Everything happened so quickly." She sat next to Lily, at her invitation.

"First let me introduce you to those..."

"I'm Sirius!" Hermione saw an outstretched hand right before her eyes. Looking up, she met the face she would have never recognised. Sirius looked very differently from his older self. It was not only the matter of age; the attitude was something completely else. He was devilishly handsome with his short, wavy dark brown hair and tanned complexion. Self-assured, grinning, mischievous glint in his blood-shot eyes (probably long night, Hermione thought amused), he reminded her of the Weasley twins. She shook his hand, unable to withhold a grin too. Sirius' good mood was contagious.

"Hermia Rogers."

"Nice to meet such a beautiful lady..."

"Slowly, Sirius," another voice interrupted. "You will scare her with your, ahem, attitude." Hermione saw a face so much like Harry's that it was weird. She knew already who was that. The words "Potter. James Potter," were only a confirmation.

James looked like Harry, thin, messy hair and all, but his behaviour was not much like his son's. He was much more sure of himself -- there was no hint of Harry's shyness behind the round glasses. It was clear that James was popular and handling his popularity well.

"What you see now is only a half of the wildest quartet in Hogwarts," Lily informed her. "If you feel up to it, we can take you to Hogsmeade to meet the rest, there is this wonderful shop..." Another little fact to remind her how out of place -- or rather out of time -- she was. She pushed the starter of the Time Tuner on Tuesday, but she landed on Saturday. Hermione idly wondered how many years it takes to complete the week cycle. She had never thought of counting that.

"Ah, I think I will pass," she replied to Lily's question. "I'm a little bit confused about everything," and that's the understatement of the century, "and I'd like to, um.. look around, you know..."

"Sure." Lily stood up, ready for the action. "We shall go looking for Mary Bale, she's the sixth-year prefect. I think she hadn't left for Hogsmeade yet. She would be the best person to start with, since you want to get settled in... So what school do you come from, again?"

"Maori Institute." She stood up also and followed Lily to the exit of the Great Hall. Sirius and James were right behind them.

"Er... and that is...?"

"In New Zealand."

James whistled. "Pretty far away!"

"Hey, don't monopolise her time, Lil!" Sirius exclaimed, sounding a little disappointed that she wouldn't be going with them to Hogsmeade. "We want her too! She would be such a lovely companion on our raid on Zonko's..."

"Sure you want her, Sirius." James laughed. "C'mon, Laura just asked you to meet her in front of Zonko's... be more mature, buddy!"

"Oh, and you are the adult one..." Sirius sniggered. "Just a month ago Lily thought she was - "

"Shut up, Sirius!" Lily got angry, all of the sudden. "This is not a laughing matter!"

Hermione was watching the exchange with interest, but didn't feel like asking what was this all about. James saved the moment by kissing Lily lightly on the mouth.

"It just shows how childish Sirius is, Lil. We would have got along with whatever fabulously. _We_ are mature enough."

The realisation dawned upon Hermione and she went crimson. Did they really...? Wow. She had never seriously thought about it, her 'relationship' with Viktor Krum being over before it even started. She knew Parvati and Lavender liked to experiment with boys, but she didn't think they were that far... but then Lily and James were seventh-years, so... 

"Potter mature?" Somebody's cold voice brought her back to reality. "It's an oxymoron."

Hermione swirled around, surprised. There, leaning against the wall, with his arms folded across his chest, stood a vaguely familiar figure. She was racking her brains trying to pin the face down to the name.

"Sod off, Snape." Sirius almost spat. Hermione almost gaped. Before she came down to the Great Hall, she was aware that she would meet Lily and James and their friends, but she had totally forgotten about Snape. Probably because it was hard to imagine that Snape could have ever been a teenager. Seeing him now was the most strange feeling she had ever experienced in her life.

Hermione shivered when Snape's black eyes brushed over her, evaluating her. She felt like a bacteria under microscope for a moment, before Snape broke the eye contact.

"Temper, Black." His voice was almost like she had remembered it from the Potions class. Soft and rich. Velvety, yet sharp, vibrating with sensual undertones. "What is it? Didn't sleep well?" He drawled maliciously.

Sirius eyed him suspiciously. The tension could be cut with the knife, and Hermione squirmed. She cleared her throat, attempting to distract Snape. The strategy worked and their eyes locked again. This time Snape held her gaze for several seconds, making her throat go dry. Just like in the Potions class, she was suddenly aware of every inch of her skin, of her disorderly braided hair with the ends brushing her neck. But unlike in the class, he didn't look away.

"What are you staring at, Snape?" James snapped.

"Something more interesting than you, Potter." Snape narrowed his eyes, glancing at James. "You can't stand not being the centre of the attention, can you? Go ahead, bed another Slytherin girl and get her killed, perhaps then your ego will - "

Lily raised her hand as if to slap Snape, but James stopped her. He was pale and ready to erupt, but Sirius was first to voice his anger. Hate beneath the words was unmistakable. This war was way beyond the one Harry and Ron had with Draco Malfoy, Hermione thought.

"One more word, Snape, and we will think up something more incriminating than this owl, yesterday. You will never know what hit you and you will be out of here, you greasy - "

"Yes, yes, yes. Try to be more inventive with your threats, Black, you're repeating yourself." Again, his eyes drifted to Hermione. "Who are you?"

Hermione had to overcome the dryness in her throat first. "Hermia Rogers. Transfer from New Zealand."

That seemed to catch his interest. "Maori?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"I heard they have the best Potions Master in the world teaching there, Hiroshi Asada. Did he teach you?"

Hermione's brain went blank; the name told her nothing. She recalled Professor Dumbledore referring to Snape as the best Potions Master in the world, so she nodded again. After all she was taught by the best, so it was only a half-lie.

"Well, what a shame."

She blinked. "Why?"

"It will be wasted here. Professor Monday is nowhere this level. In fact, he's - "

"Snape, don't you have some lizards to skin alive?" Sirius hissed. "If you don't get your sorry arse from here this second - "

"Threats again, Black? And you're surprised the girl prefers to talk with _me_? Where's the rest of your pack anyway, you won't be able to pull anything on me on your own." This time Snape didn't even look at him, still observing Hermione. He snapped his fingers. "Ah, where are my manners? I am Severus Snape." He hold out a hand. Hesitantly, she shook it, feeling an electric impulse go down her spine. His grip was firm, but slightly cool, as though he was outside in the cold weather. She took some time to regard him.

He was almost as tall as his older counterpart, and just as lean. His Hogwarts robe, with a silver-and-green prefect's badge pinned to it, was unbuttoned and hung around his stark-black garments with fluid grace. His face was pale, with an aquiline nose and rather sensual lips. How come she had never before noticed he had sensual lips? The contrast between the paleness of his skin and the blackness of his long, hanging past his shoulders, limp hair was even more accented when his face was so young. 

Feeling incredibly stupid, Hermione withdrew her hand. She saw he was ready to go and couldn't help but be a little irritated at Sirius' rude interruption of their short conversation. Hearing about her new Professors certainly qualified as getting to know the school better than him trying to talk her into going to Hogsmeade.

"I would warn you about fraternising with that lot, Rogers," his tone indicated great contempt for the trio that was just opening their mouths to tell him where to get off, "but since you already are a Gryffindor, I guess you won't have much choice, even if you wanted to avoid them. More the pity."

He turned around and went out of the Great Hall, not sparing them another glance.

James and Sirius looked after him angrily, but Lily shook her head in amazement.

"He talked to you civilly," she noted, and began to play with the sleeves of her robe nervously. "Hermia, stay away from him. I mean... really stay away. He's dangerous."

Sirius and James nodded in agreement.

"He's the biggest slimy bastard in school." Sirius informed her. "A Slytherin prefect. You know what he did to Peter's owl just yesterday? He relieved it of the head and the limbs. Just because it bat it's wings too loudly."

"He loves making us miserable," James finished.

"But you know what?" Sirius grinned. "We love making him miserable too."

Hermione rolled her eyes, refusing to be scared off by Snape's reputation. "Men. Everywhere the same."

"Aren't they?" Lily laughed. The heavy atmosphere vanished, replaced by original merriment. "I'll take you to the dorms... no boys, it's the way for girls only. Go to Zonko's or something. Bring Remus and Peter along."

Hermione was ushered to the corridors she knew so well, but ones she found disconcertingly unfamiliar. Well, all this situation would take some time to get used to. And maybe it wouldn't be that bad.

**

***

**

Chilly air on the top of Astronomy Tower was cooling Snape's head, as he was waiting for the drops of rain to fall. What had just happened? Why did he feel compelled to come here, wishing for the calm of the rain to soothe him? Why wasn't he heading to his room instead, where the thin book, _'The Alternate Reality of the Dream'_, for which he begged Professor Andermin for so long, awaited him? 

Severus clenched and unclenched his right hand. His skin where he touched this Rogers girl was tingling. What the hell had made him approach them? Well, he had to rub those content smiles off Black's and Potter's faces, but there was something about this new student...

At first he saw nothing interesting about her. Than he noticed how rigid her back was when she was being introduced to the Head Girl. She didn't relax immediately under Evans' charm, which was rather unusual. Evans' smile seemed to melt the biggest icebergs, even some of the Slytherin ones. Then he saw her laughing at that clown Black. 

She was attracting his attention every couple of seconds until he could no longer measure up the Ravenclaw girls. So he quit and went over to the object of his interest.

She had the most amazing eyes he had ever seen. Chocolate brown. Deep. Sparkling with raw intelligence. She didn't escape his gaze; she hold him captivated with the strength he couldn't explain. As if she had known something about him he wasn't aware of himself. Most peculiar.

Pity she was just a Gryffindor.

He had more important things to think about. Mother's and Father's expectations. Letter form Severia. Developing his skill in Oneiromancy. His addiction to Scarlet Elixir. 

She was just a Gryffindor.

**

***

**


	3. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin: Part T...

**

Painted on My Heart

** **

The Gryffindor and the Slytherin: Part Two

**

**

***

**

"Hermia? Hermia!"

It took Hermione several seconds to realise that Remus was talking to her. After three weeks she still wasn't used to being addressed as 'Hermia'. The name was much shorter than her own and the stress was placed differently. She looked up from her Magical Runes textbook. She actually got what she wanted from the Time Tuner - Potions and Advanced Magical Runes didn't collide in her new schedule.

"Yes, what is it, Remus?"

He was waving his hand in front of her face. Some people around the common room watched them with amusement.

"Now, waving your hand is not the best way to attract girl's attention, Remus." Sirius commented innocently. He got up from his place on the couch and threw himself to his knees in front of Hermione. "Oh, beautiful lady, will you do me an honour and accompany me to the Ravenclaw - Slytherin match on Saturday?"

Incredulity on her face made Remus choke with laughter. "Well, you certainly did attract her attention, Sirius," he breathed, wiping tears form his eyes. "Hermia, would you help me with my Transfiguration assignment? You have taken Arithmancy, so you would have better insight into the problem than James." He shoved his notes under her nose. 

She took a look at them, frowning in thought. "I think I have seen a book in the Arithmancy section in the library that would be helpful." She rose from her chair beside the window and began to walk towards the door. "Are you coming?" 

Remus grinned. "Sure. You're a saviour Hermia."

Sirius shook his head in disbelief. "Remus beat me in picking a girl. That's new."

Hermione had to roll her eyes. Did Sirius ever think of anything but girls? He was the most social animal she had ever met, he had girls fawning all over him and he never seemed to be alone. Remus was more like herself. He was rather studious and usually participated in James' and Sirius' pranks in order to keep them out of trouble - not that he had much of success. It was the role she had played with Harry and Ron. Education mattered to Remus no less that to her. With a pang of guilt Hermione thought that she would rather have Remus around than Harry and Ron. He didn't mock her drive to know things, he didn't tease her about her need to learn. On the other hand, she missed Harry and Ron, especially her bickering with Ron. Sirius and James were fun, but they didn't exactly fill in for her best friends.

There was also the matter of Peter Pettigrew. He was nothing like she expected. Instead of a trembling coward and traitor she remembered from her third year, she met a shy young man, hero-worshipping James Potter and Sirius Black. Knowing how he would turn out, Hermione supposed she would never be comfortable around him, never would trust him with anything. But truth to be told, he reminded her a little of Neville Longbottom. 

"So, are you going to go to the match?" Remus questioned her on their way to the library.

She wrinkled up her nose comically. "Et tu, Remus?"

"Hey, I'm not inviting you, just asking."

"To stare at the bunch of..." She swallowed the rest of her response, remembering Ron and Harry being oh-so-offended by it. It was fun to watch her friends playing and cheer for the House team, but it was not to be the case this time. 

"Thank you, but no. Gryffindor isn't even playing, so what's the point?"

"Sirius will be heartbroken." Remus winked at her, not arguing. Although a Beater himself, he was tolerant of people less inclined to sports.

"Laura Johnson will console him." Sirius exaggerated advances towards Hermione have been the best joke in the Gryffindor common room for the last three weeks. Surprisingly, she didn't mind. She was rather flattered that the most wanted boy at Hogwarts was showering her with compliments, even though he wasn't serious.

They entered the library and went to the Arithmancy section. _'Numbers in Relation to Other Disciplines of Magic'_ was a big, heavy tome, Hermione remembered, and therefore hard to miss, so she was surprised she couldn't find it.

"Let's ask Madam Letter," Remus suggested.

Madam Letter was a tall, thin and grey-haired old woman, much like Madam Pince. Do all librarians look like this? Hermione wondered. The one she remembered from her Muggle school was just the same.

"It has already been borrowed." Madam Letter pointed her quill to the back of the room. "You may ask him if he's finished."

By the window, at the table as far removed from the entrance as possible, surrounded by the piles of books, sat Severus Snape. Quill in hand, he was taking notes from five books simultaneously, seemingly oblivious to the rest of the world. Remus' face fell.

"It's a lost cause, Hermia," he sighed with resignation. "I will try to figure it out myself."

Hermione felt a little irritated. What was it with them? Snape couldn't be that bad, surely? Then she remembered _Professor_ Snape. He definitely could.

"Let's ask him, at least. He won't hex us."

"I wouldn't be so sure." murmured Remus, but followed Hermione. When they reached their destination, she cleared her throat. 

"Sore throat is a case for Madam Pomfrey, not for me, Rogers." Severus spoke without raising his eyes. 

"What are you working on, Severus?" she asked bravely. His reaction startled her a little. His head shot up rapidly; eyes narrowed and hostile. 

"First, Rogers, I didn't give you permission to use my first name. Second, I fail to see why would my work be any of your concern."

Hermione touched Remus' arm to stop him from whatever he was about to reply. As much as giving Snape a nice put-down would be gratifying, they needed the book more. In for a penny, in for a pound. 

"Your work is my concern, Snape, because you have borrowed _'Numbers in Relation to Other Disciplines of Magic'_ which I need. I merely wondered if you finished with it and if I could borrow it."

Her calm response seemed to have an effect on him. He watched her so intensely that it was making her nervous. Not for the first time. Every breakfast she could feel his eyes on her. Every exchange of looks was making her wonder what he really thought about her. The only words she heard from him after he had introduced himself were: 'Rogers' when she happened to pass him in the corridor. It was a simple acknowledgement, but there was significance to it she could easily recognise. He never acknowledged any of her companions, and if the companions happened to be James or his friends, they were always greeted with a cold sneer and an insult. She has never replied those greetings; his strange, searching gaze always made her shut up and only nod in response. 

"I'm finished." He pulled the volume from under the parchments and handed it to her. "Here."

"Thank you, Snape," she smiled at him. Not hearing a reply, she turned back and walked away, Remus in tow.

"How did you do it?" he asked in a low voice.

"How did I do what?"

"Made him give you the book! Even though I was standing right beside you. And he didn't even snarl at me!"

She shrugged. "Perhaps because you didn't provoke him?"

Her friend pondered her explanation. "Perhaps."

So far she had witnessed only one more confrontation between the Marauders and Severus Snape. She couldn't help but notice that it were the Gryffindors who usually started trading insults with him. That time, after the Quidditch practice, Snape's razor-sharp tongue was backed-up by Evan Rosier's hot temper, and they almost started duelling on the Quidditch pitch. What Snape was doing there Hermione had no idea, since Snape was not on the team. The DADA professor, appearing out of the blue, put an argument to an end, taking ten points off per capita. Since there were four Gryffindors and two Slytherins, the former were down by twenty points. Hermione's friends were not happy bunnies afterwards, general opinion being that they have been set up. 

"Why do you guys hate each other so much?" It was the question she wanted to ask since day one, but never found the right moment.

Remus smiled bitterly. "He's the mean, sarcastic, egoistic Slytherin whose mission in life is to make the life of Gryffindors a living hell. You can't blame us for disliking him."

"You don't dislike him, you hate him. Well, perhaps not you, Remus, but James and Sirius certainly do."

"Perhaps because _he_ hates _us_ and makes no secret of it."

"It's more than that. There must be a reason." 

Remus sighed. "An ugly story, Hermia. Actually more than one. You wouldn't believe what this slimeball is capable of. And no, I don't feel like telling it."

Hermione gave him evaluating look, trying to decide if pressing on the subject would be of any use. No, it wouldn't. She shifted the tome borrowed from the library from her right hand to the left and acknowledged the end of the conversation. 

Just what Snape was capable of? Why was he so mean and cold, unable to accept the smallest signs of affection, like being on the first-name basis? Was it only because she was a Gryffindor? Or was it something more?

**

***

**

One drop, just one drop, no more... Severus was measuring the amount of dragonsblood, still remembering the pain of making a mistake in the brewing of Scarlet Elixir. He was now much more experienced with it than two years ago. Practice makes a master. He had a lot of practice lately.

"You done, boy?" came the voice from the office of the Potions' teacher. Professor Monday emerged, coughing.

"Almost, Professor."

"What are you making this time?"

"Invigorating Potion for Madam Pomfrey," Severus lied, slipping the vial with the rest of dragonsblood into his pocket. The rest of ingredients looked similar enough not to raise any suspicion. Monday wouldn't notice if someone brew the Polyjuice Potion right under his nose, he thought. He was actually incredibly lucky to have such an incompetent and oblivious Potions teacher. Professor Monday was only too happy to have such an eager student, thinking it was his guidance and influence that made Severus so interested in the art of Potions making. Snape never cared to break this belief, granting himself access to the Potions lab and stores whenever he needed.

"Ah, yes, Invigorating Potion... I don't remember her asking for it..." 

"You have asked me to prepare it two days ago, Professor." Two days ago Monday had coughing attacks every half an hour, and concentrated more on them than on what people were saying to him.

"On Monday?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah, I might not remember then... how is it going?"

"I will be done in an hour or two."

"Good, good. I'll leave you, I must go to Madam Pomfrey..." he coughed. "You will manage on your own?"

Severus had to stop himself form a snort. "I think so, Professor."

"Good, good. I have the lesson with Slytherin and Ravenclaw seventh-years first period tomorrow morning, so you will tell me how it turned out, mhm?"

"All right, Professor."

"Good night, boy."

"Good night, sir."

When the door closed, Snape pulled out the vial. One drop of dragonsblood every twenty minutes, for two hours, stir clockwise every half an hour... It would take some time. He pulled out the latest Oneiromancy text Professor Andermin had given him. It was so old that the script was barely visible, translating from Latin making the reading even more difficult. 

_'The Journey of Oneiros is the tool that needs to be handled carefully. The more experienced a Dreamwalker, the bigger a chance to get lost one's self in an alien dream; the new...'_

_Auleum?_ What was _'auleum'_? Deciding he would check up later, he read further.

_'can fascinate the mind with it's unfamiliar pattern, either the complexity or simplicity...'_

_Elicitis?_ Another word he didn't know. A verb, from the context - sixth conjugation, the infinitive would be eli... hmmm, _elicere_? But what did it mean?

He put the text away to stir the concoction. Gods, he was tired. The way his thoughts got side-tracked was a sign he should go to bed and have some sleep. He smiled to himself, seeing as the potion he was working on turned deep red. The Scarlet Elixir was much better than any Sleeping Draught he had used until he was discovered last year and Madam Pomfrey confiscated his supply. He had to invent the new means of getting a decent sleep. And what a discovery it had turned out to be! 

The different shades of red were swirling in the silver cauldron, fighting for domination. Just like the eyes of this Rogers girl. In her eyes he could see the same turmoil, emotions crossing her face and leaking out through the eyes. He couldn't help himself; he was drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She was such a Gryffindor, all feelings clearly visible on her face even when she tried to suppress them. It was most... stimulating... to observe the play of emotions in her - he could see as irritation dissolved into eagerness, anger shifted to resignation, melancholy to joy, boredom to interest. There were those moments he was finding himself wanting to know what could cause the shift, not merely observe them...

Today, in the library, she called him by his first name. The only people that had permission to do so were his family - and if he could take the privilege back, he would, Victoria - who was dead, and Professor Andermin - who was usually formal and 'Mr Snape' was his choice of address. It was not the fact that Rogers had the nerve to call him 'Severus' that upset him (was it the infamous Gryffindor courage or equally Gryffindor thoughtlessness? he wondered); it was the unfamiliar tightness in his chest he experienced when she was saying it. As if he wished to hear it again. So he snapped at her and enlightened her just what was allowed with him and what was not in the terms of address.

But then... she smiled at him. A simple thank-you smile made him unable to utter a simple word. All he could do was sit there and stare at her, wishing he had more books she needed. What was wrong with him? 

Snape rubbed his temples. He would only get a headache trying to analyse what was happening to him. The best course of action was to ignore the girl. Next week he would select a new partner for the training Severia ordered and he would focus on it. 

He stirred the potion again, adding another drop of dragonsblood. It was ready, thank gods. He wouldn't keep up without it any longer. He poured the red liquid into the green flask and sealed it with a spell. He wouldn't risk somebody discovering his treasure. The treasure that granted him pleasant dreams - no nightmares, no disturbing images, just the relax and rest. 

With a sigh of relief he left the lab, heading to the Serpent's Den. He hoped Rosier would be asleep already; he had no desire to listen to his endless rambles about the power he would be given by the Dark Lord. Rosier could be such a fool sometimes. He never thought, he only acted. Like a Gryffindor, but saying so would make Rosier erupt with rage even Snape wouldn't be able to control. If Rosier thought he would be given power, he was going to have a rough time among the Death Eaters. 

Not that Snape had anything against Rosier. No, far from that. He kind of liked Rosier. He was the closest to a friend Severus had right now. Since Victoria's death they had a common enemy - James Potter, and a common destination - the service to the Dark Lord. Rosier's temper was sometimes a hindrance, but the fierce Slytherin was far from stupid and Snape could appreciate it. If only the man wouldn't be that loud.

After entering the Slytherin common room Snape noticed only one person. Alicia Wilkes was on her way out. 

"Pretty late for a stroll, Wilkes."

She smiled naughtily. "A girl's gotta have some fun, Snape."

"Outside the Slytherin?"

Her smile widened. "Fun can be found everywhere. You should know." The suggestive wink died at the corners of her eyes as Snape's face frozen into an icy mask. 

"You wanted to say something, Wilkes?"

She gulped. "Me? Like what?"

"Good. You can give my regards to your sister, Corrine. Hasn't she got herself engaged to Anthony Avery?"

She understood the threat. Her family needed the Avery money; it wouldn't be sensible to endanger her sister's engagement with idle remarks.

"See you later, Snape."

Severus clenched his teeth. He was so damn sure Corrine could keep her tongue behind her teeth. Even Slytherin girls gossip. Gods, he wished Narcissa was still at Hogwarts. Sensible, discreet Narcissa. She would save him so much trouble. As obsessed with her own revenge as he was with his, they understood each other well.

He went to his room, the biggest advantage of being a prefect. The flask in his pocket was heavy and he took it out, examining it fondly. It would last him at least a month. Oh, joy. 

**

***

**


	4. The Gryffindor and the Slytherin: Part T...

**Disclaimer:** 'Draught of Sleeping Death' doesn't belong to me. It belongs to JL Matthews, if I remember correctly. 

**Painted on My Heart**

**The Gryffindor and the Slytherin: Part Three**

*** 

_Tap... _

_The raindrop hit the marble floor of the terrace. _

_Tap, tap... _

_Another one. And another. _

_Severus stretched his long body on the floor, spreading his arms as wide as he could. The chill made him shiver, but he didn't mind. The soft breeze was turning into the quite a strong wind, bringing the scent of lemons and cypresses along. He inhaled deeply, turning his face slightly to the east where the scent of the eastern gardens was coming from. _

_Tap, tap, tap, tap... _

_His fingers drummed the rhythm against the white marble. _

_Tap, tap, tap, tap... _

_His clothes were soaked already; wet fabric clung to his body, pressing him slightly down to the hard, cold floor. Greyish clouds were blocking the sunrays, but not entirely. _I bet there's going to be a rainbow, _he thought. He closed his eyes, enjoying the streams of water running down his temples, into his hair and ears. Wide grin spread across his face, forcing him to swallow the drops that were falling straight into his mouth. _

_Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap... _

_It was raining harder; keeping up with the rhythm was getting difficult, but boy, it was fun to try. The sleeves of his robe, heavy with water, limited the freedom of his hands, but he didn't give up. His fingers were splashing the water that gathered in small pools around his form. _

_Tap, tap, tap... _knock, knock! _tap, tap... _knock, knock, knock! 

Brutal reality broke through the delicate tapestry of magically induced dream. Severus' eyes snapped open. Dampness that made the bed sheets cling to his bare skin was due to his own sweat, not the rain. Grey-golden sky turned into the ceiling of his Hogwarts room. The sunrays hidden behind the clouds were now filtered by the dark-green curtains. Instead of the even sound of rain falling he could hear the day awaking outside. 

The old grandfather's clock showed six in the morning. 

Knock, knock! 

"Who is it?" he shouted, angry to be bothered so early in the morning. Sleep didn't come easily to him, damn it! 

"Callina." There was a tone of urgency to the high-pitched feminine voice that came muffled through he door. "Snape, it's important! The fourth and fifth-year prefects had a huge row and I can't make them cooperate! If you don't help me we're going to have Andermin on our backs before breakfast!" 

Shit. Being a prefect was proving more trouble than it's worth. 

"I'm coming, one minute!" 

_Once out of Hogwarts I won't have to deal with this hind of things anymore_, he thought while dressing. _Those endless political crises are damn exhausting sometimes. No wonder three quarters of Ministry's officials recruit from Slytherin. We learn manoeuvring between other sharks since we are eleven. Or younger._

Pining his prefect's badge to the uniform he noticed his hands were shaking slightly. He must have overdosed the Scarlet Elixir yesterday night. The perspiration on his skin was a little too abundant too. Merlin, he would have to slow down with it or Andermin was going to notice. 

"You look terrible, " Callina Edelman, the other seventh-year prefect, commented when Severus emerged from his room. 

"Why, thank you, Edelman," he sneered, "for those dark circles you have just granted me by disturbing my beauty sleep. If I won't get elected Witch Weekly's Mr Handsome it will be all because of your incompetence." 

The insult slid off her like water off a duck's back. Thank gods, Edelman was one of the few sensible people around. Her grades and no-nonsense attitude granted her the responsibilities of a prefect, but the position was sometimes too little to ensure the obedience of fellow Slytherins. For a daughter of a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff the nuances of the interaction between the Slytherin-bred members of the House were still hard to grasp. 

"So, what's going on?" 

"Iunius Deleney caught Tricia Lancre snogging with some fifth-year Ravenclaw when she should have been patrolling. His sense of decorum was apparently mortally offended and he was on his way to Andermin when Morgan Bulstrode appeared and announced that if Tricia loses her badge he would resign too. Then Shawna O'Connor said that if Attila Actus would be appointed in Morgan's place, Morgan can kiss his apprenticeship in Malfoy Company goodbye. Tricia lashed out with threats on Shawna and Morgan; Morgan and Iunius begun to play whose-father-has-a-bigger-wand game." Callina was filling Severus in with a gun-speed on their way to the common room, clearly upset there was nothing she could do. "I have no idea why Iunius thinks his position is strong enough to defy the rest of them, but he insists on telling on Tricia. That was when I left to fetch you; I hope they haven't progressed to hexing yet." 

The two of them entered the common room to see the four younger prefects red-faced and yelling at each other. The only one that managed to retain some class was Patricia Lancre. Even when screaming, she had this peculiar Slytherin air of power and control, reminding him strongly of Severia. One of the reasons he steered clear form Lancre. 

"...twenty five thousand Galleons you can throw away, Lancre, you would earn this much just lying on your back," O'Connor was hissing, "but it won't help you get into Delacroix's good graces!" 

"Really, O'Connor, if I hadn't known better I would think you're jelous! No word from Adrian? Perhaps your father shouldn't have shown up in the Deleney's interview!" Tricia replied venomously, making her adversary almost choke with anger. 

"You leave my brother out of this!" Iunius Delaney barked, diverting his attention from Morgan Bulstrode. "You're not..." 

Snape cleared his throat, but to no avail. The wand in Deleney's hand, previously pointed at Bulstrode, quivered in Lancre's direction. Bulstrode wasn't going to pass up such a good opportunity, raising his own. 

"Expelliarmus!" called Snape and four wands shot straight into his hand. That got their attention. Angry shouts were quickly swallowed at the sight of the oldest prefect. It was better not to rise voice around Snape for nobody could be sure what his reaction would be - prompt hex delivered so quickly that counteracting was an impossibility, a humiliating remark that made the victim a laughing stock of the whole common room for a week or a cynical arch of an eyebrow encouraging to elaborate. 

"I have neither time no desire to get into your little differences," he started. Patricia Lancre wrinkled her face in apprehension and drifted behind Bulstrode. Sensing Snape's dislike she had made it her strategy to hide whenever he was in vicinity. Meanwhile, Severus continued: "First thing: nobody goes to Andermin, is that clear, Deleney? We're already fifty points behind Ravenclaw and it's only six weeks into the term. Lancre..." He pierced the fifteen-year old with a coldly scornful look. "If you happen to see a Ravenclaw out of bounds past curfew, you detect points, not fuck him, understood? Next time kindly satisfy your sexual drive more discreetly or I will personally pour the Hideousness Potion into your pumpkin juice and the problem will solve itself. Bulstrode, if the reason of your resignation will be something short of a fatal disease, you'd better learn to resist Imperius because I have no intention to deal with that idiot Actus on the prefects' meetings. Now, O'Connor, if I remember correctly, the board in Malfoy Company suspended your father for incompetence, so stop making empty threats or I will reconsider putting a good word for him to my mother and the International Potions Makers Association will close his case without a second thought." He made a long pause for dramatic effect, looking from one to another. "All's clear?" 

"Crystal clear, Snape," murmured Bulstrode, the only of four whose pride allowed acknowledging of a threat. The fighting spirit left them and they marched off to their dorms, exchanging hateful glares. Having to take their wands back they were forced to pass Snape, who made a point of handing them tips-first. It symbolized the loss of control over one's wand. _Never let the heat of the argument cost you your power and control,_ was the unspoken message. 

"That's it?" Edelman sounded doubtful. 

"Why?" 

"Usually you're more subtle... I thought you would reason with them and make them make peace." 

"Peace?" Severus snorted. "Edelman, that would be a day. Deleney and Lancre hate each other's guts, it's a family feud. O'Connor's and Lancre's mothers both hope to marry off to Delacroix's father so there's no love lost between them either. Bulstrode is O'Connor's enemy just because he's Lancre's friend and the Bulstrodes would skin alive anyone who has any connection with the press. Since her parents' divorce O'Connor has a grudge against Deleney because of his brother's interview. They won't make peace, Edelman, and I'm not going to flex my mental muscles thinking up the kinds of bribes they could offer each other in order to make peace a remote possibility. I'm too busy with my N.E.W.T.S. Threats are simpler and in this case the only arguments they are likely to understand." 

Not to mention he was still a little too dazed by the effects of the Scarlet Elixir to reason with four angry Slytherins first thing in the morning. 

"I don't know how you do it," Edelman sighed. 

"Do what?" 

"Know everything. Who with whom, when and why. You're not Slytherin-bred either. Your family is from Durmstrang." 

Snape shrugged. Durmstrang's Circle of Green Flames most of his family used to be members of - and him too, for the first two years of his education - was as good as Slytherin House in imprinting paranoid urge to know everything about the people around. You never know who would turn your enemy and what information might come handy. Besides, he was as pure-blood as the most snobbish of the Slytherins and richer than most. Rich purebloods tended to form an exclusive circle no matter what school they attended to or what country they lived in. Severus had been taught genealogic trees since the cradle. 

"I have a knack for spying, didn't you know?" he asked mockingly. 

Edelman winced. Last time a word 'spying' was mentioned around Snape, the person's robes were set on fire. He didn't like to be reminded about the favourite taunting lines of his four Gryffindor rivals. The wisest thing to do was to not follow the thread Snape himself set. 

"I'm going for breakfast, are you coming?" 

Severus hesitated. He wasn't particularly hungry - another side-effect of the Scarlet Elixir - and he needed a shower, but he hasn't missed breakfast for weeks now. Since the Rogers girl arrived. 

_It's ridiculous. I'm not going down for breakfast just to see her. _"No," he replied and went back to his room. After all he substituted for Professor Monday today. Sixth-year Ravenclaw and Gryffindor double class, first period. Hermia's class. 

*** 

Hermione collected her textbooks from the table with little enthusiasm. Potions with Professor Monday were first. _Harry and Ron would be overjoyed to have him teach Potions instead of Professor Snape._ To her, the classes were boring. Professor Snape's classes were never boring. They were sometimes hard to endure when he was in particularly bad mood, but they were challenging even then. Listening to Professor Monday made her irritated over the loss of time she could spend actually learning something instead of simply preparing the concoctions she had been able to brew her second year. She wondered how did Snape turn out to be one of the best Potions Masters in the world - if not the best, as Dumbledore's remark suggested - when he was taught by Professor Monday. He sure seemed to spend a lot of time with books, but Potions was kind of a subject that required a mentor. Books couldn't teach the precision that made the potions making effective, they couldn't hone the sense of smell so important in the art. 

Oh, well. She would take _Moste Potente Potions_ and read it after she's done with the potion Professor Monday would assign. He wouldn't notice. 

"Laura, have you seen my copy of _Moste Potente Potions_?" she called the only dorm-mate who hasn't left for classes yet. Laura didn't even turn away from the mirror, still doing something with her face. She was probably worse than Parvati where looks were concerned, always talking about the newest beauty potions and charms. Hermione, having lived as a prefect in her own room for a year, has forgotten how terrible sharing a bathroom with such a person could be. 

"Most what?" 

Hermione sighed. "Big, thick volume bound in dark green leather, marked 'restricted section' top left corner, no title on the front page?" 

"The one you left on the chair by the window?" 

Hermione didn't remember where she had left it yesterday night, the last conversation she overheard between James and Sirius being on her mind back then. They were making plans for the future. Hermione withdrew after two minutes, feeling incredibly guilty and depressed. It was hard to know what kind of future the two of them would be facing. 

"Might be," she responded to Laura's question. 

"Check on Daisy's bed." 

"On Daisy's bed? What _Moste Potente Potions_ would be doing on Daisy's bed?" Hermione tried to stay calm, not to think of the consequences of a restricted book in hands of Daisy Powell. She went to Daisy's unmade bed and dug the book out from beneath the pillows. 

"We saw a chapter about love potions and - " 

"You didn't try to make them, did you?" Hermione felt she was starting to panic. Even Ron wouldn't be so stupid to try to make a potion listed in the _Moste Potente Potions_. The fault would be hers if something dreadful happened. She squeezed the book in her hand protectively. She would have to learn that she didn't have much privacy now. Not to leave restricted books lying around. 

"Well, no." Laura finally looked at her, brush in her hand. "They were too difficult. And the ingredients were weird." The blond girl eyed Hermione hopefully. "Perhaps you could..." 

Hermione only humphed and left the dorm. It was too late to go to the library. She would talk to Anthony Wood from Ravenclaw instead. He mentioned he owned _Music Charms_. 

"Merlin, not Snape again!" she heard somebody mutter as she entered the classroom. Her head automatically tuned to the teacher's desk and she experienced a strange feeling of déja vu. _Not déja vu,_ she told herself,_ a memory. How many times did I enter the potions classroom to see Snape sitting at the desk? More than I can count._ But he wasn't seventeen then, and he wasn't sitting with his back rigid as if he had trouble to be in control. It was most unfamiliar. His older counterpart's serpentine form was always leaning easily against the chair, emitting an aggressive confidence. 

"What is he doing here?" she asked Anthony. 

"Substituting for Professor Monday," Anthony replied reluctantly. "He has taken his Potions N.E.W.T.S. after his fourth year and he's Monday's assistant now. Takes his place when Monday's ill. Thinks he knows everything, the slimeball." 

Hermione sat at the desk she shared with Marissa Hunter. Marissa was the weakest Gryffindor at Potions, even by Monday's standards, and Hermione found herself monitoring her every step in the class as she did with Neville Longbottom. Marissa wasn't clumsy like Neville, but she couldn't remember simplest potion recipe. 

Out of habit, she focused on the teacher and found him looking straight at her. The shiver that ran through her entire body was a familiar friend by now. She welcomed it every morning at breakfast. It worked like a shot of caffeine in her system, making her feel more alive, filling her with energy. It's lack today left her disappointed and unfit to enjoy Sirius' and James' jokes. 

Students were slowly filling the classroom, but all Hermione could see was the pair of black eyes boring into hers, unwavering. 

"Hermia, what are you doing?" Marissa's quiet whisper broke the spell. Hermione smiled weakly. 

"Sorry, I spaced out." 

"You'd better pay attention. Snape can get really mean when somebody disturbs him too much. Last year he made Daisy cry and said such things that Albert broke up with her. I think he would consider staring disturbing." 

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled, wondering why Marissa was engaging in lengthy explanation since it seemed important to be quiet. Snape being verbally abusive was nothing new for her. She could remember wishing sometimes his insults were directed at her. Anything but the cold indifference. Well, she had it now. 

She smiled. 

Finally, Snape stood up, still rigid. He measured the class up and came closer to the separate desk with a cauldron on it. 

"Professor Monday wanted me to show you the differences in brewing popular Sleeping Potions and the Draught of Sleeping Death." 

Somebody laughed and called from the back of the Gryffindor part of the classroom: "You must be going on the latter!" 

Amused snickers spread throughout the class. True, Snape didn't look particularly well, paler that usual, his eyes burning as if in a fever. His fingers clenched on the edge of the cauldron. 

"I might make _you_ going on it too, Freeman," he hissed venomously." Easy to arrange unless you listen to what I have to say." 

Freeman's rebellious face made it clear he didn't believe one word, but Snape's quiet icy tone forced him to subdue. 

"I'm about as eager as you to do this, so I suggest you all shut up so that I can make it quick," Snape continued in a slightly calmer manner. He summoned several phials and let them levitate around the cauldron. 

Most of Ravenclaws looked somewhat impressed at his effortless synchronisation, but tried to hide it. Levitating more than two objects was a very difficult task, which most of the students had hard time mastering in Professor Flitwick's class. Actually, Hermione was the only one able to do it regardless of the number of objects involved. 

Snape proceeded with the demonstration. The students, especially the Gryffindor part, were far from attentive, which gave Hermione bizarre impression of unreality. Nobody was ever unattentive in Professor Snape's class. After Severus' angry snarls and biting remarks failed to silence the room, he dropped his voice to such a low level, that the Ravenclaws had no choice but to calm the Gryffindors themselves in order to hear anything. 

Hermione wasn't concentrating on the notes she should be taking (not that she needed to, Snape covered Sleeping Potions her first year), but on the teacher himself. His quiet, almost intimate tone as he spoke about Potions had the same effect on Hermione it had before her 'accident'. The old pattern was resurfacing - the need to impress him, longing for some kind of connection she knew was possible but never had a chance to develope. 

She raised her hand when he mentioned the Somnus Quietus Potion. Snape blinked in surprise. 

"Rogers?" 

"Don't the newt's eyes react with Somnus Quietus Potion, cancelling it's properties?" 

A short pause and a flicker in black eyes preceded the reply. "They do. But not when the concoction of asphodel and wormwood is prepared two or more days before making the rest of the potion." 

"The long state of rest of wormwood makes sleeping potions too strong. In Somnus Quietus Potion, combined with eagle's claws, it can cause hallucinations." 

Snape abandoned the cauldron and sat on the teacher desk, quite unaware of twenty seven amazed pairs of eyes following his actions. 

"It can be prevented by adding the liquidized maple-leaves instead of powdered ones. The extract, however, is very hard to brew and that's why Somnus Quietus is so rarely used." 

The information was puzzling. She could remember her fifth year and ovearhearing Snape ordering one of the seventh-year Slytherins to make the extract. Another thing that would change in twenty years? Hermione ignored Marissa's shocked expression. 

"Why is it difficult to make?" 

An amused smile crept to Snape's lips. "Rogers, you people in Maori Institute have much easier access to Japanese maple-trees than us, here in England. Or generally in Europe. Only the Japanese maple-tree leaves can be liquidized. It takes a lot of skill and precision. We also lack in Professors Asadas here, so if somebody wants to take Somnus Quietus, they must be prepared for hallucinations later on." 

To the complete astonishment of the rest of the class, for the next forty minutes the exchange continued, interrupted by Snape's trademark statements like: "Here I was, thinking you have a brain bigger than a chestnut, Rogers, but you insist on proving me otherwise. Draught of Shallow Sleep is _not_ the same as the Nap Charm! They might work the same way, but the after-effects..." 

Snape's stiff back relaxed as he was shooting the drawings of the exotic plants and animal's body parts onto the blackboard. Hermione's argumentative mood she habitually eased into and Snape's undivided attention almost sent her into euphoria. There were moments when his belief in his own omniscience about potions was becoming annoying, but still... She had never had a discussion like this. Ever. Free exchange of thoughts, the partner immediately knowing what she meant, catching her ideas, following her train of thought without much difficulty, not requiring explaining her leaps of logic. Even to Professor McGonagall she had to explain the problems step by step. 

Everything except the two of them and their topic disappeared. In the fervour of discussion she wasn't thinking about his reaction to her more forceful statements, but he didn't seem to mind. His cutting remarks that could hurt deeply when uttered by an adult Snape, now didn't matter - they were more off-hand than anything she had ever heard him say. It was just a habit of his, with no meaning behind. 

The hush that has fallen over the classroom passed unnoticed by either of them. Twenty seven pairs of eyes were switching from one to another like on a ping-pong match. Some got bored after a while, some were taking notes furiously, some were just watching the interaction trying to comprehend how is that possible that a _Gryffindor_ can talk to _Snape_. 

"Eleven o'clock!" somebody called. "End of the lesson!" 

Severus and Hermione were interrupted in a mid-word, which broke the trance-like connection between them. Snape stood behind the teacher's desk frozen, as though returning to the real world was something hard. He forgot to sneer at the students that were quickly leaving the classroom. His eyes focused on Hermione again and, again, she felt the edges of the reality blur a little. It was like being sucked into a dream... 

It stopped abruptly. Snape rushed out, as if he had all demons of hell on his back. 

_Forty minutes,_ Hermione thought. _One lesson. And everything has changed. _

*** 


End file.
